


you said i'd conquer my vertigo

by jetpacks



Category: Scott Pilgrim (Comics), Scott Pilgrim - All Media Types, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (2010)
Genre: Hangover, M/M, Pre-Slash, Repression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22440739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetpacks/pseuds/jetpacks
Summary: Scott has his first hangover; fortunately for him, Wallace is pretty experienced with them. (Or: the somewhat gay story of how Scott and Wallace became roommates.)
Relationships: Scott Pilgrim/Wallace Wells
Comments: 5
Kudos: 80





	you said i'd conquer my vertigo

**Author's Note:**

> hey i wrote this in one day in honor of my first ever hangover, yaaaaay. i'm no longer invincible. ): inspired by my friend basil's Hangover Experience with their girlfriend that i am jealous of because i am extremely single.  
> obviously there's like, mentions of emetophobia so don't read if that bothers you i guess? nothing Happens happens but c'mon, he's hungover.

Scott’s memory of the previous night is, for the most part, intact, but his health is decidedly not. Wallace has turned the light on, and it burns as soon as he opens his eyes, exacerbating the headache that had already clawed its way into his skull like a badger excavating soft earth. He groans, squeezing them shut again. “Wallace?” he asks, voice faint. “Are you still here?”

“Uh-huh,” Wallace answers. “Was just about to get you some water.”

Scott dares to open his eyes again- just a crack, and not staring at the ceiling light- to see Wallace approaching the cupboards where the glasses are stored. “Oh, thanks,” he says, and takes in the view for a brief moment before he’s mostly obfuscated by the bar. (Wait- what view is he taking in? What’s he thinking?)

Within a minute, Wallace is back by his side, nudging him with one socked foot and saying, “C’mon. You didn’t drink any water last night; something tells me you’re going to be a little hungover.”

“Is that what this is?” Scott asks, voice muffled as he speaks half into his pillow. Logically, he knows what it is, but he’s never had one before, and it’s… not fun, to say the least.

“‘Fraid so.” Wallace crouches down next to him, adding, “Seriously, guy, you need some water. Don’t tell me I walked all the way to the sink and back just for you to not drink it.”

Scott sighs and sits up; his brain takes a few moments to catch up- the vertigo is a bit much to deal with- but, after a little, he reaches out and takes the water, hand brushing against Wallace’s as he does so. “Thanks,” he says, no more than a mumble. He’s afraid Wallace will clap him on the back, which will upset his sense of balance again, but instead, he just places a hand on his shoulder and rubs it gently for a moment.

“No problem,” he says, and then the touch is gone. 

Scott finishes the water in a few moments- how thirsty  _ was  _ he?- and lies back down, breathing a deep sigh. “Okay, I still feel like hot garbage. What now?”

Wallace had just sat down in the easy chair and turned on the TV, but, when Scott turns to look up at him, he turns his gaze to him. “Get something to eat,” he says. 

“But I’m  _ nauseous,”  _ Scott whines, which is very, very true. “I’ll throw up.”

“No, you won’t.” Wallace pauses. “Okay, you might, but it’s better than starving. A lot of it is dehydration and malnutrition, so have a salad or something.”

Scott nearly gags at the thought. “You know how I don’t like salad on a  _ normal  _ day?”

Wallace narrows his eyes and stares in silence for a few seconds longer- pondering something, presumably- before he says, “Fine. Just this once, since it’s baby’s first hangover, I’ll get you some McNuggets.” He ruffles his hair, which Scott smooths down again. 

“Thanks,” he says, and manages a smile. 

As Wallace turns off the TV, then stands up and grabs his coat, Scott finds himself admiring him on accident again: he’s got some nice shoulders, and- hm. Okay, that’s seriously just weird. He flops back down on the futon, which proves to be a mistake, because his brain again has to reconfigure itself. He closes his eyes against the light, and, within a few minutes, he’s passed out again.

Scott wakes from a fitful sleep when Wallace slides the key into the door, opening it with a  _ clunk- _ ish noise. As he steps into the apartment, the smell of cheap, greasy food fills it; it’s music to Scott’s… nostrils. Assessing himself, he finds that his headache is even worse now somehow; it must be the malnutrition, as Wallace had said, which means he definitely has to get his hands on those McNuggets. With no small amount of reluctance, he sits up, pushing the blanket off of himself, and opens his eyes; this, of course, only worsens his headache. “Gimme,” he says simply, reaching out blindly as he closes them again.

“Well, aren’t you polite,” Wallace says, but hands over the bag anyway.

“Thanks. And I’m a very pleasant young man, so yes, I am.”

“Uh-huh.” With his own bag, Wallace lies down on the futon, lifting the comforter over his head. “Get under here.”

Scott opens his eyes a crack. “Why? Like… to cuddle?”

“Yeah,” Wallace says, “but also so the light doesn’t hurt your eyes.”

As he always does, Scott brushes off the flirtations- though he doesn’t really mind in the slightest- and follows Wallace’s lead. There’s a comfortable darkness under the blanket, and it’s sorta fun to eat like that. He pulls the little container of chicken nuggets out of the bag and opens it, barely resisting scarfing them down by the handful. Normally, he wouldn’t be  _ that  _ opposed, especially when he’s just around Wallace, but under the circumstances, he would most certainly puke, so…

There’s a shuffling noise as Wallace pulls out Scott knows from experience is a salad from his own bag; though he can’t really see him, Scott eyes where he thinks Wallace is lying with mild contempt. “What?” Wallace asks, as if he’s read his mind. “Can’t a guy have a salad?”

“From  _ McDonald’s?  _ At least have a Big Mac,” Scott says, talking around a McNugget. “Anyway, why’re you eating under here with me? Are you hungover too?”

“No,” Wallace says, piercing a piece of lettuce with his plastic fork, “I just…” He pauses. “No reason.”

“‘No reason’?” Scott repeats. He swallows the chicken, staring in Wallace’s general direction for a few moments, then gets back to work eating. “Whatever you say, man.”

It’s nice, though, being under the covers with Wallace. Well, that sounds wrong- except maybe it doesn’t, but that’s a whole crisis and a half, and Scott’s not willing to think about it while he’s got this headache. Maybe some other time. Anyway, so it’s nice being under the covers with Wallace, because he’s close to another person, and he feels so cared for that it’s almost painful.

“You know,” he says, “if you’re gonna be this hospitable when I’m hungover, maybe I should just move in with you.” It’s a risk, but he’s willing to take it; Wallace flirts with him, and is also, like, one of his closest friends, so it can’t be  _ that  _ big of a leap of faith.

Wallace laughs, and it’s such a tender sound, so gentle all of a sudden, that Scott’s chest aches. Again, he stifles it down; he’ll work it out later. “Y’know? That might be pretty fun. We should do it.”

“Yeah,” Scott says, “maybe we should.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i love you!


End file.
